


Crocodile Bird

by Gigi_Sinclair



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ancient Egypt, Ancient Rome, M/M, men in makeup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:08:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26777146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gigi_Sinclair/pseuds/Gigi_Sinclair
Summary: In the first century CE, Egyptian immigrant Rahotep enjoys a sporadic relationship with Roman centurion Tiberius Cordius of the Sixteenth Legion.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Crocodile Bird

**Author's Note:**

> First published in 2008 as part of an anthology.

Rahotep hadn't worn makeup in a very long time.

It was common for men at home in Egypt, but here in Rome, it wasn't, and in this part of town, the last thing you wanted to do was draw too much attention to yourself. He missed it sometimes, and when he heard the Sixteenth legion was returning, he found the malachite eyeshadow and the kohl eyeliner in the bottom of his wooden trunk and set them out on the table. 

It was Gaia the washerwoman who told him. He was down at the market getting his usual breakfast, a small loaf of bread from the baker and a bruised peach from the fruit-seller, when Gaia rounded the corner. "The Sixteenth is coming home today." She sounded excited, and understandably so. After being away from Rome for months--sometimes years--at a stretch, the legionaries came home eager to spend their hard-earned money. It was good news for everyone, from the merchants to the taverns to the whores, when a legion was in town. 

“You're sure?” Rahotep asked. 

Gaia nodded. “They arrived in Ostia yesterday. So I shan't worry if I don't see you around for a few days.” She gave a lewd wink and laughed, her voluminous stomach jiggling as she made her way back to her storefront. 

The news was good, but Rahotep wasn't about to get his hopes up. Centurion Tiberius Cordius of the Sixteenth Legion was literate, but he did not write letters to Rahotep. They had not been in communication for nearly two years. For all he knew, the man could have met his death at the end of a barbarian sword months ago. Still, Rahotep deviated from his usual routine and went to the baths, just in case. 

He paid a barber for a shave, then headed for the pools. The conversation in the tepidarium centred on the coming of the legion, as well as the usual business dealings. Rahotep listened carefully to one of the men, a weaselly merchant named Tucco, who was talking about getting into the business of importing exotic beasts for the gladiatorial games. He had a particular interest in the hippopotami of Egypt, and Rahotep was able to advise him on some locations to find them. 

“You're throwing good money after bad with them, though. You won't get your investment back.” 

Rahotep had held many jobs since coming to Rome, one of which had been handling beasts and prisoners in the Coliseum. The number of beasts--not to mention men--who died before ever setting foot on the arena sand was truly staggering. 

Thinking of the hippopotami made Rahotep think of Egypt, and that, along with the prospect of seeing Cordius soon, made him happy. He hummed cheerfully to himself on the way home. When he got back to his cramped apartment, he pulled out his treasured mirror, a disc of polished bronze he'd bought as a gift for himself the moment he could afford it. He ran an approving hand over his newly shaven cheeks and his thick dark hair, cut short in the Roman style. 

Rahotep had always been proud of his looks. He was equally proud that, despite the periods of hardship he had known since he came to Rome, he had never resorted to whoring. It had been his mother's profession in Alexandria, and it had taken her life at a young age. It was a road Rahotep had sworn he would never travel. He had not. From time to time, he used his beauty and his charm to get what he wanted, but he only had sex when he wanted to. 

Despite the time that had passed, he hadn't lost his touch with his makeup. Using the wooden applicator, Rahotep outlined his eyes with thick black kohl, then used the malachite eyeshadow on his eyelids. It was a stunning effect, if he did say so himself. 

When he'd finished, Rahotep put on his best tunic, freshly returned from Gaia's laundry because one was never too poor for cleanliness. Then he waited. 

The first legionaries arrived in the quarter barely an hour later. They were not allowed to carry arms in the city, but they were still impossible to miss, with their crested helmets and burnished armour shining in the sun. Rahotep watched from his small square window, an uneasy excitement mounting in his stomach. While Rahotep certainly hadn't been faithful to Cordius, the legionary had never been far from his mind. 

Tiberius Cordius was not a rich man. He was a plebeian, like Rahotep himself, and getting on in years. He was in his mid-thirties now, and although as an officer of the legion, he was forbidden to marry, Rahotep knew Cordius lived periodically with a woman who had an apartment nearby. She had borne him several children over the years, and Rahotep sometimes saw them, if he happened to be over that way: two little boys, the image of Cordius, and an older girl who looked of marriageable age. Rahotep hadn't been to their street for a long time, and he wondered idly if Cordius was a grandfather by now. 

The two of them had met six years ago, shortly after Rahotep arrived in Rome. He was young then, a beautiful eighteen-year-old who had made the long journey from Egypt alone in search of adventure. A half-breed, the son of a Roman legionary and a freed Alexandrian prostitute, Rahotep had never known his father, but he had grown up surrounded by Roman soldiers and Roman culture. In occupied Egypt, there was no choice. Even as a child, Rahotep had known his future lay in the vibrant heart of the empire, and he had vowed to travel there as soon as he was able. 

When he at last arrived, Rome was not quite as he had imagined it. He found work easily enough, although he never stayed anywhere for long, and while there were some who looked down on foreigners, there was enough diversity in the city for Rahotep to be accepted by most people of his own class, as long as he kept his more exotic traditions, such as the makeup, to himself. 

One night, he was in a tavern, talking and drinking the sour Roman wine that made him long for the rich, delicious beer of home, when Cordius arrived, accompanied by two or three other soldiers. Since they were in uniform, they immediately drew attention from everyone, including those customers foolish enough to think they could take on the legion and drunk enough to think they would succeed. Rahotep watched Cordius smash his fist into the face of an oncoming assailant as if he were swatting a fly. Then, he turned and shoved another drunken fool into a fellow legionary, who picked the man up by the front of his tunic and threw him out the door. 

Rahotep finished his wine in a single gulp, and went over to the legionaries' table. 

“That was quite an impressive display.” He smiled. 

“More where that came from.” Cordius cracked his knuckles. His friends chuckled, but Rahotep knew they were watching him closely. 

“I wouldn't dream of tangling with the legion. I was rather hoping I could show my appreciation by buying you gentlemen a drink.” He lowered his eyelashes and looked up at Cordius. The legionary grunted, but he moved over on the bench. 

Rahotep used his all best tactics on Cordius, flirting and fluttering and flattering him outrageously. It wasn't a wasted effort. When the other legionaries rolled out of the tavern and headed for the barracks, Cordius hung back, and when Rahotep said, “I have an apartment not far from here,” Cordius grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and pushed him against a nearby wall. 

Rahotep's mother died when he was young, but she was around long enough to teach him how to defend himself. He carried a knife, a thin blade secreted in a hidden pocket, and he was wondering whether he needed to reach for it when Cordius instead pushed an impressively large erection into his thigh. 

“This what you're after, boy?” 

“That rather depends on what you're after. Sir.” 

Cordius' large hands went around Rahotep's hips and lifted his feet off the ground. A back alley fuck was not what Rahotep was after. He had seen too many of those squalid, pitiful couplings in Alexandria and here in Rome. He squirmed free and walked away, hoping Cordius would follow. He did, after a time, and they spent the night on Rahotep's straw mattress. 

Cordius proved to be pleasantly surprising, both in his abilities and in his tastes, but when he left, Rahotep did not expect to see him again. When he turned up at the apartment the next night, and the one after that, Rahotep was suspicious. What did he have to offer a legionary that couldn't be had somewhere else just as easily? 

Whatever it was, it kept Cordius coming back, night after night, for six months until Cordius told him the Sixteenth was being shipped out again. 

“This is for you,” he added, tossing a leather purse onto the bed beside Rahotep. 

Anger rose like a wave within Rahotep. “I am not a whore.” Even after all this time, if Cordius insisted otherwise, Rahotep had the knife nearby and knew how to use it effectively. 

“Don't be stupid,” Cordius snarled back. “It's not a fee, it's support.” 

“What in the name of the gods does that mean?” 

“You're not working.” That was true, at the moment, but something always turned up. Rahotep had never been unemployed for long. “I'm going away. A Roman soldier takes care of his...” Cordius hesitated a moment. “His responsibilities before he leaves.” 

“I am no responsibility of yours.” 

“Just take the fucking money. Pay your rent on time for once.” Cordius was dressed by this time, and he fastened his cloak around his shoulders. 

Rahotep stood. When they first began their affair, Cordius had been steadfastly against kissing, claiming it was weak and unmanly, but it hadn't taken long to change his mind. Cordius pulled him into a long, passionate kiss, and, after a moment's hesitation, Rahotep kissed back. When he moved away, Rahotep confessed, “I will miss you.” 

Cordius shrugged. “I'll be back.” But he kissed Rahotep again before he left, and held him for longer than Rahotep would have expected from a hardened legionary. 

And so began a pattern. Rahotep got on with his life, with his jobs and his various amusements. When the Sixteenth was in Rome, he and Cordius were together, for a few weeks or a few months until the legion left again. 

After six years of this routine, Rahotep had no reason to expect things would be different this time, unless something had happened to Cordius. He checked his makeup in the mirror again, then looked out the window. Down on the street, the short, round washerwoman quarrelled with a taller, thinner woman with a wizened face. The market was bustling with late afternoon shoppers, women getting food for supper and men heading to the tavern for a drink before they went home. The air was heavy with the scents of cooking and spices. As Rahotep breathed deeply, savouring the scents, he saw him, pushing through the crowds that parted to make way for him. Rahotep's heart at once began an erratic dance, but he contrived to look calm and unconcerned as he sat on his only chair, waiting for the door to slam open. 

The last two years had aged Cordius. His hair was grey at the temples and thinning in the back, but he did not appear any more scarred than he had been when he left. His brown eyes darkened when he saw Rahotep in his malachite and kohl, and Rahotep was pleased he had gone to the extra effort. 

Cordius said nothing. Instead, he pulled Rahotep into a crushing kiss, groaning when their mouths met. Rahotep gripped the tunic on either side of the legionary's breastplate. After a prolonged moment, Cordius pushed Rahotep away long enough to remove his cloak and unbuckle the armour. It hit the floor with a clatter, and Cordius' hands were on him again, lifting him up with ease, pulling Rahotep's legs around his waist and kissing him roughly enough to make Rahotep pant against his mouth. 

Cordius was taller than Rahotep by half a Roman foot and outweighed him by at least forty pounds. Rahotep knew the soldier was being conscious of this when he lowered them gently onto the mattress. In his more poetic moments, Rahotep thought of them as the crocodile and its caretaker, the crocodile bird, he'd seen countless times along the Nile. The weaker one could have been so easily crushed by the stronger, but it performed a vital service and so the crocodile took care not to harm it. 

They lay together, pushing urgently against each other with hands and bodies, until the urgency grew too great and Cordius spoke to him for the first time in two years. 

“You know what I want, _carissime_.”

Rahotep did. It was what Cordius almost always wanted, and it had given Rahotep quite a surprise their first night together. He had brought Cordius home that night fully expecting to be taken by a legionary, only to find that the legionary had something different in mind. 

Rahotep pulled off his tunic and threw it on the floor beside Cordius' clothes. He ran his hands down Cordius' strong thighs, pushing his legs open. He had placed a bottle of oil beside the bed earlier, hoping for just such an opportunity, and now he splashed some onto the palm of his hand. Cordius grunted in approval, and eagerly rolled onto his stomach. Gently, Rahotep rubbed Cordius' wide back, taking particular care as his oiled hands slipped over old injuries and tight muscles. Only when Cordius was relaxed and ready did he take the next step, moving his hand lower, between Cordius' thighs. 

When the moment came at last, entering Cordius' powerful body was blissful, an act of pure joy. Cordius was tight and almost unbearably hot, and Rahotep could feel the kohl trickling down his cheeks in rivers as he sweated his way to a climax. Once he'd reached it, spurting his seed into Cordius and onto the mattress between his legs, Rahotep slid down and took Cordius' large, stiff cock into his mouth. Rahotep swallowed hard when he came. He was out of practice, but he managed to get it all down. Then, he reached over and wiped his tunic across his eyes. Streaks of makeup were left behind on the cloth. Rahotep knew they would be terrible to get out. 

After he'd thrown it to one side, Rahotep lay beside Cordius, resting his head on the barrel chest. “It's good to have you home,” Rahotep said, when their breathing had slowed. 

“Indeed,” Cordius replied. When Rahotep glanced up, he saw a rare smile on his face.

When Rahotep awoke some time later, it was dark outside. He listened to the sounds from the street for a while, the clattering of the carts that weren't allowed in the city during daylight and the arguing and screaming and laughing of the people that went on at all hours. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, careful not to disturb Cordius, but Cordius opened his eyes anyway. 

“Will you stay?” Rahotep asked, casually. 

Cordius shook his head, and got to his feet. “I cannot. I need to spend at least a night with Vita and the children.” Rahotep nodded, as if he'd expected that all along. He had. He had hoped otherwise, but he had expected it. As Cordius bent to pick up his clothes, Rahotep thought he saw him wince, and when he walked back toward him, Rahotep definitely noticed a limp that hadn't been there before. “Are you injured?”

“Nothing serious. But I'm not as young as I was.” He looked at Rahotep. “I've decided it's time to leave the legion.” 

“What will you do instead?” He couldn't picture Cordius as anything but a legionary. He was cut out for it, both in body and in mind. 

“I will find something,” Cordius' voice was confident. A true Roman soldier. He hesitated, then went on quickly, as if he was embarrassed. “It means I will be in Rome much more frequently. Can I take it there will still be a bed for me here?”

Rahotep stood and put his arms around Cordius' neck. “Whenever you wish it.” 

Cordius bent and kissed him, ending it with a firm slap to Rahotep's rear end. The thought of having Cordius on a more regular basis was enticing, not to mention exciting. Rahotep knew better than to think they would live together, or even that Cordius would spend longer periods of time with him. His woman and their children were still his main priority, as they should be. But if Cordius were to be around permanently, Rahotep decided, looking at the kohl and the malachite on the table, he would have to invest in more makeup. And maybe, he thought, smiling to himself, he would have to risk wearing it outside his apartment. 

Possibly even as he strolled past Cordius' woman's place just a few streets away.


End file.
